


rushing water, sinking thoughts

by MoonlightBreeze



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Feels, Alec Lightwood Has Feelings, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, I give him that hug as well, I give him the nice things, I'm being so nice to Alec today, M/M, Magnus is the nice thing, Post-Canon, Self-Harm, in the form of Magnus, no beta we die like men, so please don't expect too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightBreeze/pseuds/MoonlightBreeze
Summary: Alec wants to self-harm again, after years of kicking the habit. Magnus is there for him.Trigger warning for mentions of self-harm. Hopeful/happy ending.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 10
Kudos: 138





	rushing water, sinking thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I was planning my next fic to be the sequel to Moonstars, but I honestly needed to write this. It's short and sweet and it's basically just Alec wanting to self-harm and Magnus being the amazing husband he is. 
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of self-harm and a line or two of minor actual self-harm. (in the form of hair pulling) Please keep yourselves safe! <3
> 
> The beginning is loosely based on this Cassandra Clare quote: _"It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little papercuts every day." ~ Alec Lightwood, City of Lost Souls_
> 
> I'm absolutely in love with that quote, and this will not be the only thing I write that's based around that. I have plans to write an entire fic based solely on that quote at one point. 
> 
> (Don't ask me about the title. I don't know if it even makes sense for this fic, but I liked it so it's what we're going with.)
> 
> I wrote this while sleep-deprived and it's literally me projecting for 1.3k words so I'm sorry if the writing isn't the best. With that being said, I really hope you enjoy this! Kudos make my day and comments validate my existence, so please feel free to leave those, if you want :) And as always, I hope you have a wonderful day/night!
> 
> ~ Em

It wasn't a large, gaping wound that left him with eyes blown wide and an inability to breathe. No, it was a million little papercuts every day that killed him slowly, so slowly that he rarely noticed it was happening until it was too late. 

The truth was, Alec Lightwood was used to being miserable. 

So used to it, in fact, that he barely noticed when he woke up next to Magnus one morning and felt exhaustion settle heavily and immediately into his bones. So used to it that when Magnus made him coffee, he didn't even notice the milk that his husband snuck into the mug. Alec took his coffee black, and ordinarily he would have bitched at Magnus for interfering with his drink. 

Unbeknownst to Alec, who was lost in his own thoughts (dark thoughts that just kept spiraling and spiraling and spiraling and  _ wouldn’t stop _ ), Magnus shot his husband a concerned look. Years of being married to him meant that Magnus knew Alec better than anyone else in the world, and he knew without a shadow of doubt that something was wrong. 

He wanted to reach out, wanted to talk to Alec and pull him out of what was, Magnus was sure, another dangerous slide backwards. 

But Alec's fingers were tight on his coffee mug and his eyes were haunted and Magnus knew that his husband was already too far away. 

The conversation would go nowhere.

Still, Magnus had to try.

"Darling," he said, and Alec snapped out of his thoughts just in time to see Magnus staring at him with worry in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Alec answered automatically. The words felt rehearsed and inadequate on his tongue, but they were all he could offer. Of course he was fine. He was always fine. He had to be. 

"Alexander," Magnus started, but Alec got to his feet, placing the half-full coffee mug in the sink and pressing a delicate kiss to Magnus's cheekbone. It was a soft kiss, the gentleness of which contradicted the turmoil brewing just beneath Alec's skin. 

"I'm going to head to the Institute," he announced, and disappeared through the front door. 

Magnus was left alone in the apartment, holding his own coffee and what felt like a mere trace of Alec's presence. He knew that, when something was wrong with Alec, his husband had to make the choice to come to him himself; trying to force Alec to talk about it before he was ready would only push him away. That didn't make it any easier to watch him spiral and not be able to do anything about it. 

Magnus closed his eyes and tried not to think about the time blinking red on his alarm clock; Alec was over an hour early. 

~ ~ ~

Alec walked into the Institute with what he hoped was reluctant determination in his step. Better to let his Shadowhunters think that he was arriving early to get some extra work done than let them know that he'd come in early to avoid a conversation with his husband about his mental state. 

Once he reached his office, Alec closed the door behind him with perhaps a bit more force than necessary and turned the lock. He grabbed his stele from his pocket and jabbed it roughly against his stamina rune. He was exhausted. But he was at the Institute, and as long as he was, he had no reason not to work. 

Alec grabbed a file and a pen and settled in for a long, damn near impossible day. 

~ ~ ~

By the end of the day, Alec was all too aware that he was backsliding. The urge to feel his knuckles split and torn gave away exactly what was happening. He cursed at himself, holding tight to the brick of the fireplace in his office. He was supposed to be home hours ago, and he knew Magnus was going to call him soon. He couldn't believe this was happening again. He thought he was past this, thought that the last time he'd wanted to beat a punching bag senseless would be just that - the last time. 

Clearly, he was wrong.

The idea of dealing with these, these  _ urges _ for the rest of his life was almost too much for Alec to bear. He wanted to go home, he wanted to go to the training room. He wanted Magnus, he wanted to be alone. He wanted to be held, he wanted to hurt. 

Alec grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged sharply, little pinpricks of pain shooting up his spine. He grit his teeth and pulled again, harder. He was all too aware of what he was doing, and he didn't want to stop, but he did, and it was all too confusing, too overwhelming, too _ much _ \- and Alec knew exactly what would help, exactly what would make him forget about everything in the world for a while. 

He took a shaky breath. 

He couldn't continue like this, hesitating between failure and another, sweetly different form of it. He could either go to the training room, take back a little of the control he'd lost, and surrender, or he could call Magnus, push aside his reservations, and fight. 

Alec Lightwood was many things - an excellent archer, a protective & caring older brother, a Shadowhunter, a diplomat, a  _ fighter _ . 

Alec was a fighter. 

But then why did the thought of going to the training room feel less like giving in and more like fighting in some direction? (be it right or wrong; he couldn't decide)

He knew the flaws in his logic, knew the lies that his mind fed him and knew that he would be more aware of them after he punched his hands bloody. He knew what he  _ should _ do, but he didn't know if he had the strength or the courage. 

Magnus used to tell him that someone who had survived what Alec had and emerged such a good, kind person was as strong as humans came. 

Alec would swear to the heavens and beyond that he'd never felt so weak. 

A knock sounded on his locked door, and Alec ran a hand over his face quickly, erasing any frown lines that might be there, and opened the door. 

Magnus stood just outside, wearing a concerned frown and with magic crackling restlessly at his fingertips. Without a word, Alec reached to embrace him. 

Alec could hear, see, and feel Magnus's relief when he melted into the warlock's arms. He knew that Magnus knew what was wrong, and he knew that Magnus knew what he needed. He only had to reach out and take it. 

There was still a large part of Alec that longed for the feel of a punching bag beneath his fists, and his skin still itched for the release of pain and blood and  _ hurt _ , but he no longer felt so out of control.

Magnus stroked his fingers through Alec's hair soothingly, and Alec exhaled shakily. He didn't want to admit how much he'd yearned for this. He knew that he had a long evening ahead of him, a night of airing the emotions he was so used to keeping inside to his husband and allowing Magnus to do what Magnus did best and take them in stride. He knew that Magnus had a long evening ahead of him, dealing with Alec's restless energy and relentless insecurities and his tendency to shut down. 

But he also knew that they would get through it, because they always did. 

There were few things in his life that Alec could count on, but Magnus and the love they had for each other were some that he had never doubted.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
> Prompts are open!
> 
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